The Student
by rupee chan
Summary: A mysterious girl appears asking for instruction from Kenshin...


Hey Kenshin! Yahiko yelled. There's some ugly girl here to see you!  
Did she say who she was?  
Sumijiro Sesame, I think.  
It's Sesami! a voice from the other side of the gate yelled.  
Sumijiro... I haven't heard that name in a long time, that I haven't.  
  
My name is Sumijiro Sesami. Himura Kenshin knew my father, Sumijiro Akiro. My father was a man slayer for the Imperialists, but he didn't start out that way. He worked as a secretary for one of the heads of the Imperialists when my mother was killed in a fire. After that he picked up his sword and never looked back.  
Twelve years ago, my father decided that Kyoto was becoming too dangerous for me, so he sent me away to live with my aunt in Hokkaido. That was the last time I saw my father, I was only eight years old.  
The day I turned eleven, my aunt gave me a box that she said my father had told her to give to me when I was old enough. I think she thought it was some of my mother's kimonos, but it wasn't. It was a reverse-blade sword...  
And that it why I have come to Tokyo. To learn how to use my reverse-blade sword. I have spent the last eight years learning how to use a sword and I have mastered all that has been taught to me. So I came to the last person who could teach me, Himura Kenshin, the wanderer with a reverse blade sword.  
Miss Sesami, I don't take students, but I'm sure Miss Kaoru would be happy to teach you--  
I told you that I have mastered all that has been taught to me. I could beat her easily. Kaoru got a little indignant at that. I'm not saying you aren't skilled Kamiya Kaoru, I'm just saying that I'm better.  
And what makes you say that? Kaoru retorted.  
I always read anyone I come across who gives off the faintest whiff of skill at martial arts. There are many that think a girl with a sword is a nice, easy target.  
It is true that I knew Sumijiro Akiro in Kyoto and that he did have a young daughter, but I never knew that he had a reverse-blade sword.  
He didn't. In the letter that came with the sword, he told me that he had the sword especially made for me because he wanted to make sure that someone kept the Meji Era safe for the people it was created for.  
Can I make a deal with you, Himura Kenshin? We fight and if you think I'm worthy to be your student, you teach me.  
Why should I fight you? Nothing in your idea seems to go in _my_ favor.  
And if you don't think that I'm a worthy student, I will never bother you again and not allow anyone else to either.  
  
  
How come he fights her and agreed that he might teach her when all I got was _you_ for a teacher? Yahiko asked Kaoru.  
You stupid little brat! Kaoru knocked Yahiko on the head. Haven't you learned enough to notice how she moves? She walks like at any time someone is going to attack her, and her sword... the handle is worn where her hand goes... she certainly has used a lot...  
  
Ah, the Daijukain Strike. A good opener for attacking someone you don't know. Sesami merely smiled at him. Hiten Mitsurugi Style Kyujuin Strike!!!!!!!!  
And that was your first mistake, Himura. It wasn't a Daijukain strike at all. Kiyaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Kaoru, what is she doing?  
I don't know, but I've only seen Kenshin move that fast.  
  
Sesami's sword was like silver lightening that Kenshin barely managed to avoid. Her eight years in study had involved more styles than just Japanese. Sesami, I must admit that I have never seen someone use Western fencing techniques with a Japanese sword before. You caught me off guard.  
Thank you for the compliment. Now shut up and fight.  
For what seemed like hours to Sesami, for while she was very skilled, she was nowhere near Kenshin's level, they fought. Her arms were tired, her legs were tired, her nose was tired. And then suddenly...  
  
Sesami. Stop.  
Yes, Himura? she replied with a slight smile.  
I'll teach you. On one condition.  
  
You never say who taught you.  
Of course, Himura sensei, Sesami said with a surpressed laugh.


End file.
